Qian Jiaoniang’s voice came after a brief pause: “Yes.”
Just one word, and Xing Muzheng felt as though plunged into an icy abyss.
Eldest Sister Qian’s voice urged: “Your body is well now, and you’ve only Chou’er as your child. To bear another would be such a blessing. Don’t take it anymore. If the Marquis were to find out… it would wound the bond between you two.”
“I don’t want to bear his child now.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s voice was calm, flat, as if speaking of something inconsequential. Not want to bear his child. Not want to bear his child. So all these days, it was only his own wishful thinking. She had still only shown him false affection, even secretly taking medicine behind his back, unwilling to give him children. Was she afraid of being bound down further? Or had she already planned—once two more years passed, once Chou’er was married with a wife—she would run away again? Wasn’t it precisely for Chou’er’s sake that she had softened back then and returned with him, lying in the same bed, pretending to be a loving wife?
Despair surged in waves within Xing Muzheng’s chest, mingling with a raging fire of helpless fury. How could she so easily reject their child? Why couldn’t she forgive his past mistakes? Why was she always thinking of leaving? Why—why would she simply refuse to love him! His eyes reddened; he strode forward and kicked over the peony-and-vine screen.
The two sisters inside were startled; Qian Meinang clutched her belly tightly. Qian Jiaoniang, seeing it was Xing Muzheng, immediately chided, “How could you be so careless!” But after she spoke, she caught the savage expression on his face. Remembering what she had just been saying with her sister, her own expression changed.
Qian Meinang clearly realized Xing Muzheng must have overheard their conversation. She gasped, guilty as a thief, and moved to grab the porcelain bottle on the table. But her hand froze midair—because a sharp, cutting gaze followed her movement. His eyes had already spotted the inconspicuous little porcelain vial. Qian Meinang’s hand burned like fire; she couldn’t take it, couldn’t leave it, and it hung there stiffly in the air.
Her face flushed crimson. Seeing Xing Muzheng’s expression growing darker, Qian Jiaoniang told her, “Eldest Sister, you should go back first.”
Qian Meinang had never seen such a vicious look on Xing Muzheng. Her legs already felt weak, urging her to run. Yet she wanted to drag her younger sister to flee with her, afraid he might harm her in his rage. But Qian Jiaoniang seemed to know her thoughts. She gave her a calming smile and a look, telling her to leave.
Once only husband and wife remained, the room grew oppressively silent. Xing Muzheng clenched his molars, eyes locked on Qian Jiaoniang, desperate to hear some explanation from her lips—any words, even a lie. But she said nothing. Instead, she picked up the porcelain bottle from the table.
Xing Muzheng asked, “What is this?”
Qian Jiaoniang answered, “Contraceptive medicine.”
His teeth nearly shattered. “You intend to take it?”
Qian Jiaoniang tightened her grip on the vial and admitted honestly, “I don’t want another child right now.”
A heavy stool flew across the room, smashing against the wall, splintering into pieces on the ground. Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes widened in disbelief. She turned to him, and his chest rose and fell violently as he wrestled with fury. He longed so deeply for another child of theirs—yet she treated it like nothing.
“If you didn’t want one, why didn’t you tell me?”
“At the time you married an equal wife and cast off your original wife, did you think to tell me?” There had always been resentment in her heart, only now spoken aloud.
The words pierced him. He stepped forward; she retreated, eyes wary.
She actually thought he meant to hurt her. The bitterness in his mouth was like chewing gall. He didn’t advance further. He stopped, clenched his fists, tried to speak, but in the end said nothing. Turning, he walked away.
Her tense body suddenly went slack; she collapsed onto a chair.
Qian Meinang, fearing they would quarrel badly, had lingered outside. Seeing Xing Muzheng storm out, face thunderous, her heart pounded wildly. She rushed in to find her sister dazed in the chair, the stool shattered on the ground. Anxiously, she asked, “The marquis didn’t strike you, did he?”
Startled, Qian Jiaoniang looked up. “No.”
“Then what did you two say?”
“Nothing much.”
“Does the marquis know you’ve been taking contraceptives?”
Qian Jiaoniang nodded.
Qian Meinang stomped her foot in distress. “Why did this have to happen now! Jiaoniang, you should soften your stance and yield to the marquis!”
Qian Jiaoniang lowered her eyes, hiding her emotions. “No need.”
“How can you say no need? The marquis has always treated you so well. And children are paramount—there’s no one else in his inner courtyard but you. Bearing him heirs is your rightful duty. If this spreads, you’ll have no ground to stand on!” Qian Meinang was even more anxious than her sister; she didn’t want to see such a fine marriage ruined.
Qian Jiaoniang bowed her head for a long while, then still shook it.
Xing Muzheng had gone to the study. There, he smashed and hurled everything in sight, with a madness exceeding even his former fits. The study was left in chaos, as if a storm had swept through. The steward and servants waited outside, trembling, too afraid to intervene lest his fury fall on them.
Only after venting himself thoroughly did Xing Muzheng’s blazing anger ease slightly. Panting heavily, he walked to an overturned bookcase and pulled out a bright yellow scroll. It was an imperial decree, addressed to Qian Jiaoniang—but until now, only Emperor Taikang and Xing Muzheng knew its contents.
He stood a long while, gripping the scroll tightly. He was about to leave with it, but after a few steps, his lips pressed together, and he shoved it back in place. Then he turned on his heel and strode quickly back toward Honghu Courtyard.
Inside, Qian Meinang was still trying to persuade her sister. When she saw Xing Muzheng return, his expression somewhat softer, she didn’t wait for formality—she quickly excused herself, walking out with a hand on her belly. Qian Jiaoniang rose, surprised he had come back again, and looked at him with mixed feelings.
Xing Muzheng fixed his gaze on her and said in a deep voice, “Forgive me—for frightening you just now.”
Her face twisted at those words. She could endure him shouting, she could endure his coldness—but she could not endure him treating her so gently. “My lord, you don’t need to be so good to me.” From his standpoint, what she had done pierced him to the core. She had never wanted him to know, for she knew he would rage. Yet he had only vented a little, and then come back to apologize—just because he feared she had been scared.
“I told you before, it’s still not good enough.” He paused, gave a bitter smile. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t refuse to give me children.”
Qian Jiaoniang was left speechless.
When she gave her heart to someone, she gave it wholly—open and radiant as the sun. She knew how to be good to people, but she did not know what to do after being hurt. Everyone said Xing Muzheng treated her well; she herself knew it too. But did being good to her erase the wounds of the past? Did it mean she had to gratefully accept it? She didn’t know. These years she had stumbled along with him, joy and pain tangled together. No one knew what was truly in her heart. They only saw how well he treated her, envied her, urged her to treasure her fortune. But it was never equal between them. His affection was an act of grace. And she—she felt she had nothing, nothing but her heart, and that heart was equal to his. It was free: if it hated him, it hated him; if it liked him, it liked him. She followed her own heart.
Now that Xing Muzheng held feelings for her, she too wished to live well with him. Yet she did not know how long such feelings would last, nor whether they were hers alone, so her heart was always uneasy. As he was now, he was still not enough for her to bear him another child. To give birth and raise a child was too bitter a task, a bond for a lifetime—she no longer had the same headlong resolve as when she bore Xing Pingchun.
“Enough, if you don’t wish to bear one, then don’t. We already have Chou’er, that is enough.” Xing Muzheng spoke against his heart. He wanted another child, but he feared even more that because of it Qian Jiaoniang would drift further away. “I must go out. This time, it may be another two months. Be at ease at home, and do not think too much.”
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